Colours
by tigga123
Summary: I don't know, okay? I didn't have any character in mind when i wrote it but i suppose it can be Rachel. It's also at my live journal, link on my profile.


Deep breath. Slowly exhale. Repeat.

Brown eyes open and take in the crowd, hundreds of pairs of eyes staring expectedly, waiting for something to happen. You know what you have to do. It's what you're paid to do, standing up here night after night.

The thrill, the nerves, the excitement.

It all mixes together until you're practically vibrating with energy, energy that will be put to good use. Scanning the crowd from behind the red velvet curtains, your face glowing in the soft yellow lighting backstage, you gather your courage and step on to the dark, wooden flooring of the stage.

The clapping is deafening, the whistles and stomps of feet tell you that the crowd is a lively bunch. You set your mental song list accordingly, this crowd want to dance and sing and just let go. So that's what you give them.

Stepping up to the plain looking black microphone, you breathe. Once, twice, three times before the crowd is deathly silent. Smiling to yourself, you know you have the crowd where you want them, in a state of impatient anticipation. Steeling yourself for the magic that is about to happen, you let yourself get lost in the opening chords to your first chosen song. You still don't how the band to the side of the stage knows what you're going to play but you chalk it up to the magic of this place.

As the first words and notes escape your mouth, you see them as bright colours floating towards the audience. This gift is something you've always had, being able to affect people with your singing. When you were younger, you arrogantly thought it was just because of your voice, your talent. Over time you've come to accept that it's not just your voice, it's something just so inherently you that you don't question it.

The song progresses, it's a soulful fast paced jazz number you can't remember the name of. Blues, greens, yellows. The mist like substance makes its way towards the crowd, no-one else can see it but you and you're thankful for that as you don't think you would be able to explain it, even it's what you've been doing for the last five years at The Winchester.

You don't know what you're singing anymore. You let the words flow from your lips to the audience. It's a beautiful thing to see. Greens turn into purples as the song changes to a rock number. Purples, reds, yellows. This is what you live for, the unadulterated joy radiating off you when you perform infects the dancing crowd and soon they're singing along and clapping even louder than before.

Another song sung. This time a show tune, one of your favourites from a musical you saw when you were nine years old. The colours change yet again, turning to pinks, oranges, gold. The room is lit up with the colours you're producing. You think the pure happiness that's in this room, as well as many other nights, should be bottled up and sold. Maybe that way there would be less war, less greed but you can't focus on that, you have a show to do!

You're sweating now, running about the stage does that and the huge bright spot light always focused on you doesn't help either. Another three songs have made it out to the audience's ears now. The energy in the room is almost unbearable but you know you have to hang on for a bit longer, the crowd isn't quite ready yet.

Pausing for a second and letting the band have a solo for a minute, you take a swing of your water on the table at the back of the stage and after wiping your brow with the white slightly word towel you turn around. The colourful mist is still there but it's not as bright as when you're singing so you open your mouth to belt out a show stopper that you know will make the crowd go wild and you pause, just for a second. For a second you take in the awe inspiring image that is presented in front of you. The audience is up out of their seats dancing, singing and having the time of their lives. Colours float towards the right people giving them what they need and you know the mist is working its magic. You know it is working as you start to feel tired and lethargic, you know the energy you created is fulfilling its purpose. You can only last a couple more songs before you collapse and sleep for the rest of the weekend, but it's definitely worth it as you feel the mist working its magic on the crowd.

The last songs are sung and you bow and step of stage feeling content and sated. You know that you won't need to unload the energy you absorb during the day for at least a week after that performance. With adrenaline starting to wear off, you grab an energy bar from your bag in your room backstage and make your way to were the band play and congratulate them on a job well done. You can hear the crowd screaming encore but you know you don't have it in you to do another song and so does the manager of the theatre as they tell the audience you have to go and rest.

After graciously accepting everyone's praises and compliments, you get your bag and go to get yourself home but before you can even reach for your mobile you feel a presence behind you. You recognise their energy and you spin around. You know it's a high praise indeed if the elusive owner comes down to see you. Before you can even ask what's going on, you know. It's your time.

Smiling gratefully, you know it's the right thing to do. You've been in this place singing and fulfilled your promise. You can see the colours starting to fade now. All around you, the greens, yellows, purples, reds, and all the rest are bleeding out and turning grey. You panic slightly but the figure places a hand on your arms and you calm.

It's time.

Closing your eyes with a smile you, fade out turning into all the colours you often saw when singing. Feeling at peace you let go.


End file.
